Tiding Before Emotions
by child-born-within
Summary: A Drama of all sorts, about a young man who struggles to fight his emotions, feelings, and pain, will he be able to save himself from his own darkness before it's too late?


_They say that a pint of sweat can save a gallon of blood_. He watched as the blood seeped from his wrist and onto his lap, he smiled wickedly as his sweat and tears dripped from his face and ooze painfully into his wound. _They say pain is only a state of mind, that it can be drowned out by raw emotion._ The pain, the blood, even the fear, it gave him a surge of adrenaline, one that runs through the veins straight to the heart. But with the surge came the memory, not one distant, but close, very close, it breathed down the back of his neck, it gnawed at the heart of his conscience. He could feel with every drop of blood came the bitter memory... or was it a memory? No, because memories are of the past, this memory happened every day, every moment. The memory was life, or was it death he didn't know, all he knew was that it was Hell, a nightmare, one that no one would let him awake from, so he would just do it himself. _Emotion is a strange feeling, it drowns out all the others until there is nothing left, just emotion, pain, a feeling so strong it's overwhelming, it takes over the heart only to leave you to bleed. _It was a feeling he had fought all his life... depression? No, it went deeper then that, it was something more like... death itself, there was no stopping it, no denying it. It was a ghost that haunted you, that ate at you're soul till' nothing is left, it was a sin, a devil, a demon. It was a pain worse than any other, he couldn't stop it, it was like madness. It **made** him gouge his wrist open, it **made** him love the thought of his own blood trickling down his arm and onto the floor, it **made** his eyes dance over the sight of his seared open flesh. He loved it, no, not him, the emotion, the feeling of power over something, anything. He kept the feeling close, very close to him. He struggled to keep it, yet fought to lose it, every emotion, every feeling was like a whirlwind waiting to overtake him, waiting for the perfect moment to stab his soul, and rape his heart._ Power is both wonderful and evil in so many ways, it gives you the chance to let you're soul dance in whatever way it pleases, yet always finds a way to kill happiness and freedom. It's an emotion, a feeling, a pain. _

He dropped the soaken-bloodstained knife to the floor, and dropped to his knees in pure terror. He understood all to well what he had done to himself, yet couldn't understand why. _Emotion, unspoken feelings and doubts, a pain that leaves you're soul bleed._ He knew his life was hell, he knew everyday he awoke wishing he hadn't, but that was all the more of a reason to fight it, for that sense of power, even if it's just over yourself. He didn't care if his parents saw him like this, hell they wouldn't care, all they would say is, "That better not leave a stain on the floor, boy!" He felt himself begin to tremble at his massive loss of blood, so he stood up and looked around his room for a towel or something. 

His room was dark, black, as were most of his belongings, people called it gothism, he didn't care, he just wanted to be left alone. He liked darkness, it gave him a sense of knowing were he was, which was a strange feeling because he was always lost, whether it was at an actual place or a state of mind, and emotion, a feeling.

He spotted a velvet hand towel carelessly tossed near his bead; he walked stagardly towards it and bent down to pick it up. He quickly picked it up and wrapped it around his wrist, he walked towards his window, and peered out into the darkness, it was the dead of night, his favorite time of the day, he liked being nocturnal, to sleep during the light of the day and awake during the dead of the night, although it didn't work because he still had to go to school, he was only fifteen years old. His eyes shifted from tree to tree in the darkness of the night outside his window, he felt the towel begin to dampen with his wound still spilling blood. He clutched to the towel tighter, causing the pressure to stop the bleeding. 

His eyes squinted as light peered into his room from his door being opened and revealing his little sister who was only 6 years old and stood in the doorway. If there was anything in this pathetic low down world he adored it was his sister Essence, he looked after and cared for her, she was another big reason he still fought his depression, he couldn't leave her alone here, with their good-for-nothing parents who would most likely just beat and rape her. He wouldn't allow it, he was strong, a nice fighter, he protected her and himself. They couldn't leave either, because their parents supported the money, and he would be damned before letting his sister go to a foster home alone.

"Watcha up to, Devin?" She squealed as she flipped on the light and bounced onto his bead. He quickly put his arm behind his back, he didn't want her to see him like this, he was always the strong one, never hurt, never cared. He knew she looked up to him, the last thing he would let himself see is her on her own knees with a slit wrist.

"I'm busy, Essence, I'll play with you later." He glumly said as he walked to his door in order to get to his bathroom, but was stopped by Essence jumping in front of him 

"Busy with what?" She chirped loudly, making him wince slightly, she loved to annoy him, but he knew that it was a natural habit for little ones.

"Umm" he stumbled on an excuse, all he could come up with was that he needed a shower, she poutingly stomped away, leaving his path free to venture to the bathroom. 

When walked into the bathroom, he decided he really could use a shower. He threw the now bloody towel onto the floor, locked the door, and peeled away his clothing, he was wearing a black pare of baggie pants with belt loops strapped all over them, and a black sweatshirt with the corn logo on it. He slid the glass door to the shower stall open, turned the water on high and hot, stepped in. He let the piercing hot water beat down on his back, as steam filled the little stall, he felt drowsy from fighting his emotion, his pain. The last of the blood from his wrist mixed with water and turned into a pale orange color, he watched as it flooded onto the floor. He stood there as if in a trance while the water soaked his black ear length hair, the jell in it ran down out of his hair, he liked jelling his hair, giving it a messy look. He was handsome, but was never asked out because all the girls at school where either afraid of him, don't like gothic people, or thought he was dead inside. 

When he finished his shower he turned off the water, stepped out of the stall, by now the whole room was steamy and warm from his hot shower. He grabbed a large towel out of the bathroom cabinet and wrapped it around him, gathered up his clothes and swung open the door and padded off to his room. He didn't have a bed time, mainly because he didn't care, so he just threw on another pair of clothing. He walked out of his room and across the hall to his sisters room, he wanted to check up on her, to make sure she was doing alright before he would go out, he knew by now she would be sleeping. This theory of his was proven correct when he creaked her door open and peeked his head in. She was sleeping like a baby, curled up into a ball under her covers, like an angel. As not to disturb her, he slowly shut her door and continued on down the hall to the kitchen where the door to outside was located. 

As he walked into the kitchen he noticed a puddle of water on the floor next to the dinning table. He was immediately disgusted, there was a leak in the roof, and his father had said a month ago he would fix it. The lazy ass just sat around all day, drank beer and shouted orders! His mother went to work, and when she got home she was to afraid of her husband to say no to anything he tells her to do. The nasty man would tell her to clean the house, make dinner, and then rape or beat her. She was far to afraid of him, to report him or get a divorce, a coward. Devin had tried before to stop him, but she wouldn't allow it, she didn't want her children to be hurt, but that just made him even more angry at her. She was to cowardly to fight him, all she could do was worry about herself. She didn't want Devin to help her not because she was afraid for him, but she was afraid that her husband would beat her for letting Devin fight her battles. She could honestly care less if her children where dead, she watched a million times without saying or doing anything to help her children when they were younger and Devin wasn't strong enough to stop his father from beating them!

He didn't care, he was alone, well him and his sister, He walked through the puddle, even stomping in it to show his hatred for his parents. 

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Authors notes- will be continued, I'll try and update soon, hope you liked it, please leave a review, it's my first fic. ^_^ 


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